


Beauty in your Strength

by Shadowtravelingtitans



Series: Jimon Week [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: F/F, Jimonweek, M/M, Recovery, Self-Acceptance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 00:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9692030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowtravelingtitans/pseuds/Shadowtravelingtitans
Summary: Simon could write many songs about many things, but his songs of Jace will always hold the most beauty.





	

_ There is nothing beautiful  _

_ about the wreckage of a human being _

_ there is nothing pretty  _

_ about damage, _

_ about pain, _

_ about heartache. _

_ What is beautiful is  _

_ their strength, _

_ their resilience, _

_ their fortitude _

_ as they display an ocean of courage _

_ when they pick through the wreckage of their life, _

_ to build something beautiful brand new _

_ against every odd _

_ that is stacked against them. _

-Nikita Gill

Simon never quite understood why movies, books, music, and art made depression, mental disorders, break-ups, and just anything related to pain anything but beautiful and artistically necessary for the focus of their work. Sure, when he was a mundane and just skating by through life he enjoyed how they made pain this abstract thing that didn’t seem that bad. Just something to survive, to reach the next upgrade. 

But dying and coming back as a vampire changes you. So does having to make hard choices and learning to live with the consequences, call it growing up. So, if you asked Simon if he thought pain was beautiful, if he could write songs alliterating it to snowfall, or the seasons changing, he would straight up tell you to fuck off.

Remembering Jace after Valentine, after Jocelyn’s death, after Victor and his bag of bullshit, he would liken pain to the worst parts of some hellish torture. There was nothing beautiful about watching the man he’s grown fond of, grown to love, suffer in personal agony. There is no poetry found in nightmare filled sleep, in empty eyes, in clenched and bloodied knuckles after hours of beating a wall because there was  _ too much _ . Too much pain, too much hatred, too much pressure. 

No, there was nothing beautiful about watching Jace Wayland fall apart, trying desperately to keep a hold of his sanity as it slipped like water through his fingers. 

Simon could write songs about actual beautiful things. 

He could write songs about Jace learning to smile again. Not sardonic or empty, but really smile. Smile at Max when he related stories of his lessons. Smile when Clary and Izzy came into the Institute hand in hand, eyes full of love. Smile when he saw Alec make Magnus blush because he brought him roses, his smile growing wider when Alec blushed in return to Magnus’s soft kiss on his cheek. Smile when Simon started rambling about the new Spiderman movie he should watch with him.

He could also write songs about Jace being relaxed.

Leaning up against his chest while they watched Disney movies in Magnus’s apartment. Sleeping soundly, curled up next to him on rainy days, soft breathing filling the room. Sitting next to Alec and Izzy, in between them, just basking in their company and their gossip about the Institute. Playing the piano while Clary painted next to him, humming slightly. Watching Magnus brew a potion or recite a spell, eyes twinkling. 

Yes, he could write about a lot of things with Jace, but his favorite wasn’t his smile or his eye rolls. His physique or his obsession with mundane reality TV.

It was his heart.

Jace, broken and bruised, both physically and mentally, hiding and internalizing, ashamed of things he had no control over. No, that song will never be played on his guitar. But Simon will write the song immortalizing the majesty of watching Jace learn to love himself again. He will never forget watching Jace slowly, on his on time, come out of his personal prison, inch by inch, and walk into daylight. Not ashamed, not arrogant, but content. 

He will not write songs about Jace not speaking about his nightmares or drowning himself in women and men to feel.

He will write songs about Magnus and Jace having deep conversations, where Magnus tells stories of Camille and pain, and Jace looking up in understanding and gratitude. 

He will not write about Jace over training, pushing his body past his limits, just to feel  _ anything _ .

He will write songs about Izzy throwing random dance parties with Clary in her room, dragging Jace by the hand, until he rolls his eyes, but laughs and joins in the end. Head moving side to side, mouthing words to songs he’s only recently learned thanks to his sister. 

He will not write songs about punching mirrors in agony or walls in anger.

He will write songs of Clary and him sitting on a couch with Jocelyn’s photo album, retelling stories a  mother he deserved to have known. And of Luke ruffling his hair and laughing at his face of utter surprise and indignation, before his eyes soften and a small smile sneaks its way to his face.

He will not write songs about his flinching at the sound of fists hitting skin, or his gagging at the smell of spaghetti.

He will write songs about Alec and him laying on the grass of the Institute laughing at inside jokes and whispering about their hearts deepest secrets, parabatai bond humming with harmony and acceptance.

He will not write about Jace screaming his is a monster, a demon, something never meant to be brought upon this earth.

He will write songs about Maryse tiptoeing into the infirmary when Jace has taken a toll on himself, quietly sitting next to her adoptive son’s bed, holding his bruised and swollen hand gently in her’s, whispering a soft lullaby for his ears alone. 

He will write songs of Lydia patting his head affectionately and him leaning into the touch. He will write songs of Max getting Jace to help him with lessons and then sneaking into the kitchen for late night ice cream when their mother is not watching. He will write songs of Raj leaving sweets where Jace can find them and of Robert smiling proudly, boasting about how wonderful all four of his children are. 

His will write all these songs, but his ultimate masterpiece will be this: Jace and him laughing at Civil War bloopers. Jace and him having late night picnics in Central Park. Jace and him holding hands for the first time, shyly looking at each other from under their eyelashes. Jace and him running for shelter after the sky decided to start pouring down, laughing when they realize how ridiculous they look. Jace and him slow dancing in an empty room to no music. Jace and him slowly kissing for the first time, butterflies running rampant in their stomachs, lips as soft as angel feathers. Jace and him becoming official and telling their friends. Jace’s tears as they all beamed with pride at him. Jace and him moving into their first apartment, small but cozy. Jace and him adopting two cuddly little kittens. Just Jace living, not as a shadow, but as himself.

Jace knowing he is safe. That he is worthy of love and of life. Jace laughing and dancing, playing the piano, joking with his siblings, mending himself with the help of friends and family. Anyone could be bitter and hateful, lock themselves up forever in a spiral of pain and torture, but Jace didn’t. He let them in, he let Simon in. He let love and self-forgiveness and life in.

And that, to Simon, would forever be the most magnificent of sights. 

That is worthy of music and art, poetry and movie adaptions.

 

That was real beauty.   


**Author's Note:**

> It is jimonweek folks, and I have decided that Jace needs a blanket. Hope you enjoy, I have a few other ideas for this week. The prompt: social media or your favorite quote.
> 
> This was hard because between Rupi Kaur and Nikita Gill I had too many fav quotes, but this one fit the best.
> 
> Enjoy!!
> 
> Find me on tumblr, if you would like to discuss the Jimon at @boasorteminhamenina
> 
> Love.


End file.
